


Meteor Shower

by Goldenheartedrose



Series: Tumblr ficlets [5]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenheartedrose/pseuds/Goldenheartedrose





	Meteor Shower

Three years. It had been three years since John Watson felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. It had been three years since he had watched his friend - no, strike that, his best friend, Sherlock Holmes, jump from the roof of St. Bart’s. 

He thought he was getting better. He thought he was finally feeling some healing. Then the floor dropped from under him.

It had been a typical London evening when John Watson walked into the flat that was just his now, at 221B Baker Street. A cursory glance around the apartment on a typical day would yield no major surprises. Though most of Sherlock’s belongings had been relegated to a small corner occupying the deceased’s former bedroom, the skull remained on the mantle. Sometimes John mumbled curses at it. Sometimes he pretended it was Sherlock. Sometimes, he chatted at it while trying to figure out a particularly difficult case. These were not things he told his therapist.

The flat seemed to be unchanged, but something seemed off as John entered. As he walked forward, he realized there was something more than just “off” about the room. There had been a break-in. No, not the normal type that you would phone the police over, but there was certainly someone standing at the fireplace, holding the skull in his hand. 

John let out an audible gasp. This is really bad, he thought. I am finally hallucinating.

The stranger with the jet black curls and thin yet imposing frame turned to face him, a smile lighting up his vaguely sad features. “No, you’re not.”

John was furious. “How — no, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. But — you were dead!”

“No, I simply made you believe that I was dead.”

“But why, Sherlock? Why?” Tears were forming in the corners of John’s eyes. Whether they were grief or anger he couldn’t tell. “Please tell me why. One of your experiments?” He spat in a derisive tone.

“You think I would subject you to this for an experiment? John,” Sherlock crossed over to bridge the gap between them, “do you truly believe I would put you through all of this for science?” His eyes widened, pain flashing across his sharp features.

“Sherlock. Three years. It’s been three years. I don’t know what to think.”

“I would never intentionally cause you pain. You were my best friend.”

John bristled at the use of past tense. “Right. Okay, then. I can’t — I can’t do this right now.” He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door.

Sherlock simply nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I just — I need some time to myself.”

John was furious as he stormed outside of his flat - no, their flat. No, his flat. This was his, and had been for the past three years. At first, he had been heartbroken. He had never felt so many conflicting emotions as the two years he had spent at Sherlock’s side. That is, until he met Captain Jack Harkness.

Jack was so much different from Sherlock. At first glance, you could say that he was perhaps more than Sherlock ever was, but that’s not true. He simply had a different quality to him, a sort of otherworldliness. Like Sherlock, he was a truly modern man, but at the same time, he projected a feeling that he was of a different time.

John had always been a fairly reasonable man. That was shattered when he met Jack Harkness, a man who spends most of his time dealing with aliens. John recalls stifling a giggle when Jack told him exactly what he did with this Doctor of his. But Jack was serious — the two of them travel through space and time, fighting aliens.

John had never met The Doctor, as Jack called him, but he now knew Jack, and he knew enough to believe that Jack wasn’t lying to him. 

A meteor shower lit up the sky overhead. Well, that’s appropriate, John Watson mused. My world is crashing and burning; guess the sky may as well, too. Logically, John knew this wasn’t the case, of course, but that didn’t stop his use of hyperbole to express his frustration with the situation.

John breathed a huge sigh. What was he even doing here? His head felt swarmed with confusion. He didn’t know which way was up, and he surmised that it was likely he wouldn’t have any more answers upon leaving. He almost decided to walk away when the door swung open.

“John.”

“Jack. I’m sorry - I - maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “He’s back.”

“How did you —”

“I have this friend, you see…”

“Your Doctor.”

“Well, he’s not really mine, per se.”

“The Doctor, then. Did he - did he have something to do with this?”

Jack smiled. “This was always part of the plan.”

John shook his head in disbelief. No, no, no! Will his life ever make sense?

“You never stopped believing in him - in Sherlock, I mean.”

John looked up into Jack’s knowing eyes. “No, of course not. I knew he wasn’t a fraud.”

“You never really started living again while he was gone. Even the bizarre cases that we talked about, those ones that Lestrade called to ask you about, they were never quite as exciting without him there.”

A tear trickled down his face. “No, of course they weren’t.”

Jack placed his hands around John’s biceps, nearly shaking him. “Then tell him that, you bloody idiot,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. John thought he saw a twinge of sadness, but in the next moment, it was gone.


End file.
